Sonia Rykiel

You can usually count on the finale of a Sonia Rykiel show to deliver the feel-good moment of Paris fashion week, and this season's took the cake. As things came to a crescendo to the sound of Mick Jagger singing Paint It Black, the girls sashayed outsashayed being the only word for itin the palest of diaphanous nightgowns and feather chubbies, with rhinestone butterflies in their softly curled hair and Peggy Guggenheim sunglasses slipping down their noses. Sasha Pivovarova was done up to look the very picture of Isadora Duncanif the famous dancer and choreographer had taken acid. By the time Sonia and her daughter, Nathalie, came out for their bows, there was a cloud of feathers in the air above the runway and the audience had been whipped up into a giddy froth.

As for the clothes that preceded this, there wereas usualplenty of Rykiel signatures to keep the faithful happy, starting with bold trompe l'oeil jumpsuits, cardigans, and sweater dresses and working through saffron and vanilla panne velvet suits and frocks, and fine knits wrapped and draped around the body like stretch jersey. A pop-art daisy-print chiffon used for wispy, vaguely seventies dresses was Rykiel's nod to Spring's floral trend. It was pretty, as was the orange and black point d'esprit, but not half as memorable as the model bacchanal that closed the show.